So, be honest, lovers – how many of you sat down to tonight’s episode and thought ‘Now THIS is the episode I’ve been waiting for!’?

Rico reckons anyone who actually thought that has stumbled across this page via misadventure and really should pack up their Tupperware before they read something that fills them with such hapless rage they have no choice but to wait until their husbands get home and take out that shit on them in the bedroom.

Anyhoo, because these two are MUMS, Rico and I figured the first half of the show would be chock-full of ‘at home’ footage and the last thing we wanted was to watch a pair of housewives clean Nutella off the toilet seat when we could be in the kitchen bickering over who gets to use the 1 litre wine glass (Rico, damn it!). So off we went leaving the Dog in front of the TV with strict instructions to come and get us as soon as the real action started – which, according to said Dog, was as soon as Smug 1 and Smug 2 arrived at the Coles meat counter.

So here we are and here they are and Bree reckons she’s going to be as meticulous with the choice of meat as she usually is with the cigarette butts she loves picking out of sidewalk trash cans.

‘What I want,’ she explains to the butcher ‘are four long cylinders of meat and a life-size cut-out of Hugh Jackman!’

‘OMG these are PERFECT!’ squeals Jessica, ‘now let’s leave two of them behind and go get us some frozen scallops!’

‘The fuck you talking about frozen scallops, bitch?’ snaps Bree, yanking out her phone and using her impressive list of contacts to ascertain that, yes, they’ll definitely still be buying frozen scallops.

After a little more bickering, they finally get back to the house and start yapping about how they are aiming for ‘fine dining’ – mainly because it’s totally far removed from their usual experience of ripping the plastic off a Mrs Macs and screaming at the kids that the microwave’s broke and they’ll just have to SHUT UP AND EAT IT!

But – uh oh! – one of the entrée forks is missing and that means they have to break out the cake forks and hope to sweet Christ that none of these fools have ever eaten at anywhere flasher than a Sizzler.

Rico reckons they’re worrying over nothing because the cake forks are cute and, at the end of the day, will be much easier to slip into David’s food and choke the horny old bastard with.

Moving on to the actual cooking and there’s another problem on the table because the four-becomes-two meat excitement has just been discovered. After a bit of receipt checking in which it’s confirmed that, no they didn’t actually buy the meat and, yes, those wankers with the cameras knew this all along and not one of them said a fucking word, Bree gushes that, looking on the bright side, this IS fine dining and everyone knows that the key to fine dining is to use words longer than three syllables and make sure your guests are fucking RAVENOUS after shelling out upwards of $500.

‘OMG you’re so RIGHT!’ gushes Jessica and the mood in the kitchen is suitably euphoric all the way through to the other teams arriving.

But what’s this? Rico reckons something has gone horribly wrong because, instead of fine dining, the guests are dressed for a re-enactment of his Year 10 River Cruise and David is a dead-ringer for his old Maths teacher who got so drunk on pocket-Tia Maria he threw up on the Head Girl and then passed out in one of the life boats.

Up to the door go the teams and they’re all talking about the possibility of a wedding theme and, if so, which one of the girls will wear the obligatory Ellen De Generes pants suit.

Harry, despite he and Christo’s dire standing on the score board, seems determined to pretend he’s not hoping for dismal failure and, when the girls open the door, gushes that they both look ‘gorgeous’ and that it doesn’t matter that Bree has clearly won the toss and gets to be Portia De Rossi . He then turns to the cameras and says, quite sincerely, that he hopes the girls cook their best – as long as their best is a single overcooked fish finger served on a giant skidmark.

In between the teams arrival and Pete and Manu, Bree and Jessica retreat to the kitchen and start an unpleasant conversation about something called ‘domestic virtue’.

‘We live to serve!’ they trill, adding that nothing makes them happier than their husbands coming home to a home-cooked meal and slapping the shit out of them for leaving the toilet seat down.

Back in the dining room and the teams are examining the table setting and engaging in a little good-natured ribbing.

‘Hey Harry!’ giggles Jess, brandishing her cutlery, ‘we could have used these steak knives for your veal last night amiright? Hahahahaha!’

‘I’ll kill you CUUUUUUUUUNT!’ screams Harry, while BFFs Thalia and Bianca throw her that-was-so-inappropriate looks and make a note to score her with their special pen that balks at writing anything higher than a zero.

Into this jovial atmosphere come Pete and Manu who have clearly been given the Year 10 River Cruise memo and decided to treat it with the contempt it deserves.

‘For any of you who don’t know,’ announces Pete, ‘stilton is blue cheese!’

‘OMG YAY! screams absolutely no-one, and Rico mutters it would be a fashionable day in Kmart before anyone could convince him to eat a cheese that smells like a fourteen year old boy’s bed sheets.

Back in the kitchen and, even though the smoke alarm went off and momentarily blew the wig off Harry’s Mr Nice Guy costume, everything’s going relatively well and it’s time to take the scalloppy entrée out to the dining room.

‘Oh yes!’ they nod, while Manu comments that they’ve been so quiet during the other Instant Restaurants that he and Pete had started to think they could be the perfect women – if only they’d invest in some sort of opaque headwear.

Around the table there’s plenty of love and Uel reckons the sauce reminds him of those times when he was a kid and used to overload on Baby Bels, spew them all over the dinner table and then have to sit there until he’d cleaned up every last drop.

Even normally critical David is filled with the rapture, which makes the other teams tetchy because nothing is more annoying than an ugly rich person who doesn’t have the decency to give all his money to someone better looking.

Moving on to mains preparation and Smug Mum 1 and Smug Mum 2 are back in the kitchen bickering over when is the best time to pull out the meat.

‘I thing you should pull it out!’ worries Jessica.

‘I think you should shut the hell up!’ snaps Bree, crouching protectively in front of the oven.

When eventually she takes it out, Jessica is convinced they’ve out Harry and Christo’d Harry and Christo, but instead it’s perfectly cooked and Bree is so relieved to be proven right she declares it’s EXACTLY like having children, only without all the fun of drugs and hot doctors who get in up to the elbow.

Out in the dining room and, because Thalia and Bianca have no idea what chateaubriande is, Jess is helping out with a bogan interpretation.

‘Ever had ordered a steak sanga only to have the bitch behind the fryer decide that you’re too fat to eat the bread? Yah it’s just like that.’

‘Ooooohhhh!’ they all gush and Manu eyes Jess with new respect and murmurs that he’d totally think she was French if she wasn’t built like the last car on a tank engine.

Out come the plates, though, and, once again, Pete and Manu are wetting themselves over not being served Heinz Spaghetti on a bed of Vegemite toast.

‘Et was,’ simpers Manu ‘magical!’ and Pete agrees because nothing makes him happier than pink meat that doesn’t turn around straight after and ask about his plans for the weekend.

Around the table and Thalia and Bianca look pissed because THEY were supposed to top the table this round and what happened to South Australia only being in the competition to try and encourage them to do something other than kiddy fiddling and building churches?

Moving on to dessert, though, and it’s a raspberry mousse cake that was originally supposed to be served on sponge, but will now come with a solid base of chocolate mud.

Rico reckons this is fantastic decision-making because everyone knows that tried and true recipes are way less fun than flying by the seat of your pants and crashing into a fiery inferno of your own fuck-uppery.

Like everything else that’s come out of their kitchen, it looks rather lovely, and the only person to complain is Shannon who says that her serving is rather large, and Uel who says that Bree’s accent makes him want to punch himself in the mouth until he chokes on his own oversized teeth and passes out.

When the judges taste it’s immediately obvious that this is no perfect ten trifecta, and Rico reckons Manu’s face could peel a lemon and make a certain set of twins fist pump well into the wee hours.

‘Is this the original recipe?’ asks a full-well knowing Pete.

‘Ummmm… No’ they admit, before explaining that Bree had an epiphany on the shitter last night and, when Jessica tried to argue, Bree knee’d her in the tits.

When scoring time comes around it’s eights all round, with the exception of David and Corinne who understand that they can’t possibly give the mums the same score as the BFFs, because that would make them a pair of LYING cunts, not just drunk ones.

The judges agree with double tens for the entrée, a ten from Pete and and nine from Manu for main, and double fives for dessert – all of which takes them right the way to the top of the board and in a prime position to look down on Thalia and Bianca and admire the elasticity of their 19-year-old boobs.

Which means that the elimination will be between Harry and Christo and Jess and Felix who, if the previews are to be believed, are set to serve up the biggest nugget of corn-flecked bowl-floater since the Tropical Whopper.